


Gift Basket

by psymyn



Series: what's the 411? [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Brothers AU, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, Texting, but not JUST texting this time oooh, ehh kinda i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psymyn/pseuds/psymyn
Summary: The note Nines left Gavin has finally been revealed.Set back during the events ofre: hot goss





	Gift Basket

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote all of this in like the past three hours because i don't have a chapter for connection established. today hhhhnnnhggg i'm sorry you guys. hopefully this makes up for it??
> 
> i might do more actually written out scenes like this but i'm not sure yet. let me know!

“Oh, sorry, the answer we were looking for was B—Daniel Murdock.”

“Damn, even I knew that. I should totally go on this show.”

Gavin’s slumped back against the arm of his couch, legs stretched out underneath a blanket while he wastes away his day watching episode after episode of mediocre game shows. It’s the middle of the day and already he’s forcing himself to stay awake, the antibiotics really fighting for him to just take a nap.

It’s his seventh day on medical leave, and there’s only one way to describe just how bored Gavin is, and it’s this: out of his fucking mind.

He’s texted Elijah a few times since he’s been let out of the hospital, but his brother’s either busy with his own work or too sarcastic and annoying for him to want to keep up a conversation.

Chris and Tina are his next best bet, and though they’ve visited a couple times it’s nothing like what they’d usually do—that is, go out for drinks and not come back home until well into the next morning. Gavin has tried to do just that, absolutely, but his friends wouldn’t allow him for even just a moment to think about forgoing his doctor-prescribed rest just to get shitfaced.

So he’s left with his last option at staving away the boredom, which is currently laying atop his chest with one tiny white paw pressed to his mouth.

Birdie’s a constant source of comfort, in the last week more so than ever, and right now is no different. Gavin purses his lips underneath her paw just to watch it move up and down, and his cat tries to bat at the motion, curious. He laughs, shaking her in her place right atop his sternum.

“You’re cute,” he mumbles, to which she seems to lose interest then and jumps down to the floor.

Well, so much for that.

A knock on his front door startles him, and he leans his head back over the arm of the couch to look at the offending piece of wood from an upside down perspective, confusion ever present on his face.

Another knock doesn’t come, nor is there an annoyed voice asking if he can open the door, so he assumes it’s nothing too important. However, he’s still curious.

It takes him a minute to get off the couch—he’s _fine_ , just sore as shit—and over to the door quietly. Hey, if it’s some sort of traveling salesperson or missionary, he doesn’t want them to know he’s in here. That’s just fucking awkward for everyone involved. He presses his palms against the wood as he looks out the peephole, but doesn’t see anyone out there. Instead, he catches sight of the top of—of _something_ , some sort of package, sitting on his welcome mat.

Gavin pulls back and opens the door, immediately frowning down at whatever the fuck someone just dropped off at his house.

It’s a…a gift basket?

What?

Despite his utter confusion, because he certainly doesn’t remember ordering anything of the sort and if someone _else_ had done so he figures they’d want to deliver it in person, Gavin takes the gift basket inside. He sets it down on his kitchen table, staring down at it with crossed arms.

It’s a CyberLife one, which is probably the most perplexing part of the entire thing. He doesn’t even _know_ anyone at CyberLife besides Elijah—well, unless you count those guys he’s always being forced to talk to at Elijah’s stupid get togethers, not that he’s ever cared to ask for their names. He looks for a card or something that could maybe tell him who it’s from anyway, but doesn’t find anything that could help him.

As he’s deciding what to do, Birdie jumps on the table with a little noise of interest and immediately starts trying to eat the cellophane. Gavin picks her up with a shout of, “Ah! No!” and puts her back over on the couch. He doesn’t want to have to worry about possibly taking her to the vet if she learns that’s an acceptable behavior, not on top of his own medical bills.

Sighing and glancing at the mysterious gift basket once more, Gavin grabs his phone from the couch cushions and sends a quick text to Elijah.

**(1:34 PM) hey whoever sent this in tell them thanks for me**

It has to be one of Elijah’s employees, or his rich friends, or something like that. He thinks it’s only slightly weird that whoever it is didn’t include a get well card or anything, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Or a gift _basket_ —no, that was fucking dumb, jesus christ.” Gavin drags a hand across his face. “I’ve been cooped up for so long I’m starting to go crazy.”

Because he knows the shit CyberLife puts into their baskets—knows because he was there when Elijah was first posturing the idea. It’s expensive stuff, a mix of snacks you’d find at an international market and toiletries on display at a high-end salon. So yeah, he’s pretty fucking grateful.

Elijah’s reply comes not long after he’s already opened the package and started pulling everything out, but it’s not helpful in the slightest.

_(1:40 PM) uhh what are you talking about_

Gavin sets a bath bomb that’s in the shape of a star down and picks up his phone, rolling his eyes.

**(1:41 PM) the gift basket? it’s from cyberlife** ****  
**(1:41 PM) i assumed one of your guys sent it** ****  
**(1:41 PM) someone i met but i honestly don’t care enough to remember their names** **  
** **(1:41 PM) it’s not signed or anything**

There’s another, longer pause between his brother’s response, which Gavin fills with mindless watching tv again. When his phone buzzes, though, he’s right on it.

_(1:53 PM) gavin nobody here even knows? that you got injured?_ _  
_ _(1:53 PM) i don’t go talking about your personal business to my employees, no matter how much you think i do_

Okay, so Gavin’s a little confused now, but there is still one option. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

**(1:55 PM) well it’s definitely a cyberlife gift basket**

He stands up and takes a picture of it, just to show Elijah proof of his claim. He sends the photo, then asks about his last guess.

**(1:56 PM) would chloe have sent it?**

Another pause. Fuck, when he has nothing to do with his time, a minute sure does feel like the slowest thing in the world.

_(2:00 PM) idk. let me ask_   
**(2:00 PM) okay** ****  
**(2:00 PM) i mean i’ll use this shit** **  
** **(2:00 PM) cuz i know how expensive this shit is**

He’s already eyeing those chocolate-covered macadamias. Just the thought of them has drastically improved his bland mood from before.

_(2:04 PM) chloe says it wasn’t her_

And that good mood is suddenly gone, just like his appetite and his acceptance of the basket just showing up at his house. Because now, now he’s more than confused, he’s suspicious. He’s suspicious, and all his detective senses are going off and telling him this is a _bad thing_. Somebody knows he was injured, somebody knows where he lives, and he’s got half a mind to take this nice little present as a threat.

**(2:05 PM) well. this is…weird**

 

 

 

Gavin spends the next hour or so doing what he’s done all day, interspersed with walking over to the package still sitting on his kitchen table and inspecting it like a fucking crazy person. He’d watch a few minutes of Family Feud or Wheel of Fortune (Who Wants to Be a Millionaire ended at 2), and then he’d casually step over to the items laid out on the tabletop and act like he was about to interrogate them.

Shit, he needs to go back to work.

His antibiotics do end up putting him to sleep for a good twenty minutes, which he thinks is probably for the best. Every time he stood up to just glare at the inanimate objects he could tell that Birdie, from her perch atop the kitchen counter, wondered just how her dad went fucking insane in just an hour. Either that or she’d just been pissed that he’d made sure to throw the cellophane away as soon as he’d taken it off.

So he slept a little, and when he wakes up an idea is so present in his mind that he wants to just prses his face into the pillow and scream. He doesn’t, though.

Of course not.

Instead, he searches for his phone, finds it shoved into the crease in the couch underneath him, and pulls up the texts to Elijah.

**(3:19 PM) wait can’t you like** ****  
**(3:19 PM) look into your deliveries or some kinda shit like that** **  
** **(3:20 PM) find out that info?**

He very much hopes his brother still understands what he’s referring to, as he’s sure this is much more of a big deal to himself than it is to Elijah. And even though he’s fully conscious of that fact, that _maybe_ he’s just a little high-strung from being put on bed rest for a whole week already, it’s still a bit unsettling to him.

He doesn’t get a text back immediately, but he isn’t expecting it at this point. Burned out on watching game shows, he mutes the tv and scrolls through the apps on his phone, looking for something to hold his attention. Without even looking away from his screen he calls for his cat, clicking until she hops up to sit on his chest again. Like he said, she’s a huge comfort.

Sudoku keeps him occupied for twenty minutes—Gavin’s getting better at it every day—and then a message from Elijah shows up on screen.

_(3:42 PM) maybe_

He groans. “Why does this guy have to be such an ass?” he asks Birdie. She just slowly blinks her eyes at him. “Yeah, you’re totally right.”

**(3:42 PM) yes or no** **  
** _(3:44 PM) kinda illegal to just give you that info_

“Really?”

**(3:44 PM) elijah** **  
** **(3:45 PM) i’m literally the police**

“Wanna see my fucking badge while we’re at it?”

_(3:45 PM) which makes it worse LIKE you should know this??_   
**(3:45 PM) well!! i wanna know who’s sending shit to my house!!**   
_(3:46 PM) oh my GOD you are actually so dense_   
**(3:46 PM) huh?**

Gavin says the same thing aloud as he sends the question, because _that_ gives him pause. He’s dense? Does that mean that Elijah actually does know who sent the basket? If so, why would he hide it? Is this some sort of—

His phone lights up with another message.

It’s an audio message, 3 seconds long, and he knows what it is before he even hits play. The sound of his older brother’s disappointed sigh rings ou through his phone’s speakers, and Gavin presses his lips together in mild annoyance.

**(3:47 PM) you need to stop sending me your sighs because that is honestly so pretentious**

After he hits send, he immediately goes back to Elijah’s previous message. He’s dense. How is he dense? Who in their right mind would want to send him something—to his _house_ —and not sign it? Not claim it as their own doing?

Unless…unless he really is just missing something.

Gavin apologizes to Birdie when he makes to stand from the couch and step into the kitchen once more. He’s sure he didn’t see any kind of note attached to the gift, but he had been fighting that antibiotic drowsiness at the time and honestly he can admit when he’s looked over evidence. Not that this is anything like a crime scene, but after 10 years his brain is sort of hardwired to look at shit that way.

So instead of looking over the actual basket and items themselves—which, really? How did he ever expect to find anything that way?—he opens his trash can and takes out the blue cellophane that’s resting right at the top. He doesn’t see a note, no strip of paper with a name, but after flattening it out on the counter he catches sight of a small piece of dried, pressed wax, as if something had been attached but had merely fallen off because it didn’t dry right or something.

Gavin bites his lip and makes his way over to the front door, really hoping he isn’t about to look like an idiot right now.

He opens the door and—no, yeah, he’s just a fucking idiot.

Because there, right on his front porch, a little off-center as if it fluttered down once he picked up the package it was attached to, is a motherfucking card with his name right there staring up at him. He picks it up with one hand and send a couple text to Elijah with the other.

**(3:50 PM) oh shit** **  
** **(3:51 PM) uhh you don’t have to show me your deliveries anymore**

He pockets his phone, steps back inside, and closes the door behind him all while staring at the card in his hand. It’s thick parchment, the size of one of those notecards he’d always used in college, and his name, which at first he thought had been printed on it, is actually handwritten. Handwritten in absolutely perfect font, and for some reason something in his chest constricts.

“Shit,” he whispers as he catches himself rubbing a thumb over the simple capitalized letters. Then, out of instinct, he turns the card over, expecting to find a blank back. Instead, his jaw drops at the absolute _paragraph_ he finds there.

Gavin scans over it for a second, noting some of the words used before manning up and just reading it from the beginning.

_I know this is a delayed ‘get well’ gift, but I have been conflicted recently. I wanted to get you something that you would actually enjoy, and even now I’m not sure if this is good enough. I’ve been worried about you, Gavin, since the moment you stupidly ran after the suspect instead of waiting for backup. It stirred something inside me, seeing you in such pain, a feeling that I did not enjoy. I think in that moment, when I was helpless to do anything but call for an ambulance and hold you still, that I came to the horrible realization that it would be so easy to lose you. That is not something I want, so you can imagine how thankful I am that you are still here today. Get well, Gavin, and I’ll see you when you recover._

_Nines_

“Well, fuck me.”

It’s an ineloquent response, especially after reading something as…as poignant as _that_ , but it’s not Gavin’s fault that his partner has knocked all thought from his head without even being here.

Because he doesn’t—he can’t—he hasn’t tried confronting the feelings that have slowly started showing their shitty little heads over the past, god, how long has he been biting them back? He doesn’t even know at this point. But no, he hasn’t tried to decipher what, exactly, it means when Nines stands just a little too close to him, or stares at him just a little too long, or smiles that small, private smile and suddenly Gavin can’t fucking breathe. And suddenly Gavin simultaneously has the urge to hide his face in his hands and go find something really fucking cute to punch.

It’s a wild ride of emotion, and now is no fucking different.

His phone buzzes, and he blindly digs it out of his pocket. He’s surprised to see barely any time has passed as he’s been stood still while mentally running miles.

_(3:52 PM) never was but okay. what’s up you figure it out_

Elijah. What’s he talking about? Gavin doesn’t even know. He doesn’t have time for this.

**(3:42 PM) hey yeah hold on i’ll get back to you**   
_(3:42 PM) okay :**_

His phone gets thrown back on the couch, Gavin himself following shortly after. He lands face first, legs awkwardly falling off to the side, Nines’ note still clenched in his hand, held away from his body so as to not crush it underneath him.

Gavin turns his head to the side to stare at the note again, reading it once, twice. Birdie pads over to him, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes.

He very fitfully hides his face in the cushions.


End file.
